Heir to the Goblin Throne
by Sckitzo and Insomniac
Summary: Toby William’s adventure didn’t end at the Labyrinth. The Goblin King has spies everywhere Toby. Be careful what you wish for. Labyrinth x Harry Potter crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**Heir to the Goblin Throne**

By: Skitzo

Chapter One: He never leaves his sight

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Labyrinth. All work done is purely for fun!

Summary: Toby William's adventure didn't end at the Labyrinth. The Goblin King has spies everywhere Toby. Be careful what you wish for. Labyrinth x HP crossover.

A/N: If you like this, feel free to review.

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When Toby Williams was but not a child of three, he woke up in the middle of the night to hear rattling within his chamber walls.

The shouts escalading from his parent's room combined with the haunting shakes between the floorboards would cause any sane three year old to cry out in fear.

Toby had strange nightmares - where a tall man with mismatched eyes stood in a land of little, roaming, demonic minions – and when he stirred from slumber his heart filled with dread. He felt that there was something sickeningly real about his misadventures in the world of sleep.

Tears trickled down his pale cheeks and a subtle moan escaped his lips as he ran from his dreams. His sister Sarah used to come to his room and tuck him in, telling tales of mazes and the great king. Now she rarely visited him.

Sarah Williams was a senior in high school, graduating in a few more months. Why would she have time for her baby brother?

Toby wasn't ashamed in the very least as he cried out for his sister's warmth. He wasn't ashamed while he quaked, requesting for his mother's bosom or his father's comfort. He didn't seem curious when he thought he heard a melody ring in the air. Toby assumed it was just all in his mind.

However, the consoling rhythm soothed his qualms.

From the shadows peered beady yellow eyes, the chuckling of goblins resounded as they watched their young prince. The king, in his far away kingdom of the Underground, lounged on his enormous chair.

With a smirk, the Goblin King whispered dulcet sorrows to his most trusted guard, "I saw my baby, my baby, crying as a baby could cry."

He danced to a tune of mirth and discord, for his heir's tears would not be forgotten. Revenge was ever so sweet and he could be truly cruel. The guard stood still and silent, praying he would not be the next person to anger the king.

"I saw my baby, crying as a baby could cry." Throughout Goblin City the world trashed and tore, as the king's wrath could only spell doom for the villagers.

But poor Toby, lying frightened and alone, would wish for someone – a friend, a companion, a guardian. He hated loneliness. He never understood that he was never alone.

The Goblin King never left his heir, his Toby.

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When he was seven years old his father lost his job. Sitting on the couch, day after day, he sipped his cheap brandy. Toby could not hate the man, not even as the remote was chucked at his face.

Toby could not hate him, really he could not, when his father packed his bags to go fishing one evening and told the family he'd be back by Monday for a job interview.

He looked so ecstatic, Mr. Williams did.

Just like Sarah's face when she left for college, without ever glancing back at her dysfunctional family. She was their golden child, escaping from their web of deceit.

The fishing trip lasted for a month. His father never came home for the interview.

His mother was beyond herself, screaming and shrilling on the phone. Something inside her broke that day, a dam of emotions burst with one pebble unearthed. She hid from her friends and ignored her family.

Toby could not hate his father. Even though every fiber in his being wanted so much to escape like his sister had. He never felt those eyes, piercing moon-shine eyes, urging him to wish all of his troubles away. He couldn't hear the seductive voice, promising sweet fantasies in his ear at night. He wouldn't feel those pale, shadowy hands comforting him under the visage of mystic.

Toby Williams did nothing but dream of magic and mazes and dancing creatures.

The Goblin King leered from his throne, gazing into his crystal at the child of mortals. "Dance magic, dance," he would sing so softly, lulling his prince to sleep. The Goblin King's mismatched eyes were always watching. He never left his heir.

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When Toby was eight years old strange things began to occur.

Well, strange things had occurred before Toby Williams was eight years old of course. It was truly then when he first realized that it did in fact occur.

A fat boy named Regan (a bully by all means and definition) came up behind him one day. Without looking, Toby shoved the large child and as a result earned a black eye from a trigger-happy fist.

When retelling the account of his tale to his mother, a cracked woman from her husband's departure, she merely scoffed and requested that her son bring down that magazine from the dining room table. Her boredom only exceeded her patience, after all.

With no one to turn to and a bruise grazing his pale features, Toby retreated to his room, jumping on the old mattress that once belonged to his sister, and did what any desperate eight year old would do.

He prayed – no – he_wished_, he _wished_ that something terrible would happen to Regan. He _wished_ with all his might that the boy could understand just what he felt, the humiliation. Toby _wished_ for Regan to suffer.

The goblins cackled with glee in the dining hall. Surely their king, who had been watching this sad scene with a smile would want retribution.

The bully at school fell the next day while he was pushing another child down the stairs. He was rushed to the hospital, having broken both legs and fractured his rib. Regan cried out to the doctors of the tiny monsters which followed him everywhere, jeering. The poor family was at a loss. Their son was now on medication, so that the images would subside.

They never did.

Toby Williams knew he should pity the boy, but he couldn't help but feel smug. Justice had been served. The bully got what he deserved.

This revelation made the eight year old ponder. He had wished so he was guilty.

But his wishes were just the naughty hopes of a child, were they not?

The Goblin King laughed at the naivety of his heir. Surely the boy should realize by then that the king never left his prince.

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When he was nine years old, shy green-eyes met that of his mad mother. It wasn't the first time he had looked at his mother, God only knows how he could live life if that was the case. No. It was the first time Toby Williams saw his mother for who she was, no illusions attached.

Those scared green-eyes brimmed with fear as his mother smacked him over the head with a frying pan. Over the years of utter loneliness and despair, Karen Williams was merely a shadow of her former self. Paranoia and depression drove her to the brink.

His mother no longer saw the scrawny child living in her house as her son.

Toby could not hate his mother nor could he hate his father (though he was close to doing so for the mess the man created). He could not curse her wretched body as she slammed his hand on the stove. He could not damn her to hell as she pulled his golden locks.

Toby could not and would not utter those words aloud. Those haunted words that seem to play magic all about him. Toby wasn't as stupid as he once was to ignore the hard truth. Everything he ever desired became.

I wish, I wish … and the words would fail him.

The Goblin King ground his teeth in frustration, glaring into the crystal that showed him the world. "Such a stubborn boy, so much like his sister."

Creatures littering his dining hall all shuddered and bowed to their great lord. "But sire?" spoke a rather impish goblin, new and uncertain of the ways in the kingdom, "Can we not just simply bend the rules this once? It is our prince which we –,"

The king silenced the sniveling rat by crushing it beneath his boot.

"We do nothing. A wish, a simple wish, and this boy could have the world," the creature of the fae uttered, dreamily stroking a strand of his wild mane. "Perhaps he is not as foolish as he was before, making silly little wishes."

Mismatched eyes gazed towards the silhouette of his heir, perched unceremoniously on the throne. The child Toby trembled under his mother's harsh words and neglect.

The Goblin King grimaced. The woman would pay most definitely for her sin to his heir. She should have seen the mark, his mark, on her son. The woman then would have known that the king could never leave his prince.

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When Toby turned ten years old, he fell madly in love.

His heart spurned and fluttered at the delicate features of Miss Elena Douglas, a kind classmate and neighbor whom often shied away from his affection. Her fiery locks draped chocolate orbs and her laughter could melt the cold.

Toby wished for comfort, for happiness, for luck. Although tempted so often, the boy never wished for love because he knew that he need not waste such a wish.

A beacon of hope for normality and joy arose from the being of Elena. All of his doubts and fears - his abusive mother, his disappearing father, his neglectful sibling – all faded with the presence of her warmth.

As he kissed her lips softly, Toby tasted heaven.

Deep in the Underground, the Goblin King seethed at this disgusting display. How could such a silly, mortal girl captivate his only heir so? His prince needn't waste his time with weaklings.

The king scoffed at the mortal's pathetic fondness, "All the magic in the world and yet you desire her happiness? She is not worthy to even tie your shoelaces my little prince."

Alas a wicked, wicked deed fashioned in the impish fae king's mind. "Anything you desire, my Toby," with a taunt smile, he pressed his ear against the cold stone – his gateway to the Aboveground. "Her happiness, her desires, they will all come true."

Elena dreamed of stardom that night. She dreamed of lights and cameras and the love of all those watching. Elena no longer lived in a run-down apartment with her parents. She didn't have siblings that manipulated her every decision. None of them were as great as she. Elena dreamed of stardom that night and the Goblin King laughed in delight.

She left her crush, her town, and her old life to start anew. Agents called, money raked in, and her movies sold. At ten years old, Elena Douglas was a household name.

No one told Toby that his love became a star, so out of reach from mere mortals. He trudged home away from school to hear the devastating news and later arrived to the crashing crescendo that was his mother.

Toby locked himself in his room and cried.

At ten years old, Toby's heart was broken.

He then did a most foolish thing and wished his pain away.

From the anguish of his heir in his throne room, the Goblin King felt a nervous pull. Perhaps he had doubted his righteous deed. "But let us make you into a star, little Elena! There, twinkling in the sky like so many other dreamers!"

Elena Douglas disappeared the next evening. They say on the day of her disappearance a new star was born.

Toby did not feel guilt. He did not feel any emotions at all. The Goblin King encouraged this novel transformation. Best if his heir did not entangle himself in the affairs of mortals, for his reign in their realm will be short. In this moment of weakness, Toby sensed mismatched eyes examining an heir from a far away kingdom.

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When Toby turned eleven years old, all hell broke loose.

Toby Williams, at his new home in Liverpool, England, received an unusual letter from a common barn owl.

He had been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

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The Goblin King tore across his ballroom, livid at the impudence of those Aboveground. The kingdom quavered as they experienced their lord's wrath, however the Goblin King neither noticed nor cared about the state of his nation due to the initial indignity of the mortal kind.

"They dare do this? They dare meddle with our kind?" the fae lord exclaimed, seizing an innocuous goblin and chucking him across the hall. "Don't they know anything? Our magic is not the same. Our cores are not similar. Why would the wizards believe that my heir would hold such tainting, thieving powers?"

Mismatched eyes flashed, before tugging on the jaded prayer beads which he wore around his neck. A pulse of magic, still faint but evidently present.

"Griphook!" the king summoned, and with resounding boom the hall was filled with a blinding flash.

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Later that evening, Toby Williams hid the ridiculous letter from his mother by burying it beneath the willow. He couldn't have his mother finding such an atrocity. Whether or not he believed or even desired for the contents of the note to be true left an unnerving sensation paralyzing his body.

If the contents did indeed merit some value of truth … no, he shouldn't wish it – he _couldn't_ wish it.

But still at the crux of the matter, Toby desperately desired to be someone special. A world of magic, though foreign and frightful, would open his eyes to wonders he couldn't even possibly dream of – no.

"Everything I could ever desire is here with me, at home." The child muttered softly, trudging his lithe body beneath the covers of his mattress. "Why can't I even believe in myself?"

Toby Williams, at eleven years old, received a promising letter – unknowingly provoking a war between the witch-folk and the goblin-kind.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: His Eyes like Mine

Disclaimer: It would be cool if I owned all of these ideas. If I did I certainly would not be posting it on this fan site and instead would be swimming in the profits I acquired from this tale.

Summary: The heir attracts the attention of the magical world. Toby's not like most wizards of England.

A/N: Wanted this story to be no longer than five chapters. Let's see if I can make it!

Insomniac: Warning, language in this chapter ()

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The fury of a Goblin King knew no bounds as the magical planes shook. Goblins from the world above grew cumbersome and restless, throwing suspicious glances at the thieving hands of the wizarding folk who acknowledged nothing out of the norm as they exchanged goods.

The greedy men often scoffed at their lovely weapons, sneaking into the night to steal their most valued of treasures. It was a reoccurring scene to most magical creatures that had the misfortune of dealing with the hairless wonders. They were so unusually silly.

Over the year, their latent reaction to danger (whether their own or that of society) became a commonly foolish practice of wizards.

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Although considered one of the greatest wizards of all time, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry made several mistakes in his lifetime.

Among these said blunders included allowing a future-tyrant of the Dark Arts to go about unsupervised, encouraging a hardy round of rivalry between Gryffindors and Slytherins, and introducing a generation of Muggle-illiterate students to the delicate sweets their blood-cousins created. However, above all mishaps the professor did nothing – absolutely nothing – when persuaded by his predecessors to rekindle his relations with the inter-magical community.

It was not that he hated their kind per say, Professor Dumbledore just could not see himself liberating House Elves or befriending Giants in the near future.

Perhaps if he had considered strengthening their binds, Albus may have noticed the uneasy, squeamish nature of the elves or the flittering nerves of the magical owls.

No, instead the headmaster enjoyed a cup of tea in his office that fine June morning. With the recent, peaceful spirit of summer still in bloom, Albus Dumbledore could hardly wait for the new arrivals – students that may even rival our beloved Harry Potter in greatness.

Though he highly doubted the possibility, the anticipation for the start of a new year sent jitters down the old man's spine. He just needed to make sure that every student – pure-blood to muggle-born – received their letters and were properly guided by a member of the wizarding society.

It wouldn't do well for a child to get lost in the system.

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When Toby turned eleven, all hell broke loose. Now two months after the previous incident, Toby Williams learned to redefine his prior classification of hell.

His mother – a narrow-minded, depressed, frightful woman – experienced the shock of her life when an owl swooped into their dining room and dropped a particularly familiar letter on the table. Cursing her son for pulling such a ridiculous, sacrilegious prank within her household, the mad woman threw the little demon in the attic and placed the bothersome child in the back of her mind.

Raking his fingernails against the wooden floorboard of the deserted attic, Toby attempted in vain to claw his way out of the terrible mess he was in. Had he perhaps been locked in the basement, his hope for survival may have increased. However, trapped in an attic where his dear, crazed mother left her last cat (the carcass of poor Mr. Whiskers stained the vomit-covered rug near the southern grotto of the room) did not bode well for the young eleven-year-old.

By the third day, Toby viciously stunk of his own sweat and vile excrement. The torment and humiliation could break any child.

It was then, as his stomach panged with hunger and his throat cried for water, that Toby Williams _wished_ with all his heart to escape this wretched prison. Starvation – starving to death – never sounded appealing.

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The silhouette of a man with familiar, mismatched eyes stumbled into his dreams that night, his frustration seeping off him in waves of anger. Something enraged the ethereal being, whose star-blonde hair wisped in the air. A simple smile, a simple snort, a simple glare – the child-babe of his, captured by the tainted hands of wizards. A disgrace, a disgrace to his enchanted kingdom!

"What child?" Toby called out to the hazy figure, "What babe?"

But the man only stared with his mismatched eyes.

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When Toby turned eleven (exactly two months six days from the celebration, to be precise) his room in the attic became a frequent host to the never-ending horde of letter-carrying owls. By the end of the week the floor was littered with the white and brown stains of scat.

"I'd better see those floors spick-and-spam by the hour or I'll beat your hide boy!" the woman he called Mother shouted from the floor bellow.

Rank and pitiful, Toby Williams loathed the owls for their persistence. Someone was going to pay for this awful, god-awful joke. Whispering to the tawny owl in a vengeful breath, the dirty boy complained, "I _wish_ you would all just drop dead! I _wish_ no more of you bloody owls would come! There's enough in my life as it is, these damn letters won't get me anywhere."

_THUD. THUD. THUD._ Suddenly his bedroom was full of the crap and carcass of owl.

"TOBY, YOU LITTLE SHITHEAD! GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE!"

He barricaded the attic door and hid under his covers, kicking a rodent from the premises of his bed. As always, he could hear the ghoulish laughter echoing against the walls. Burying his face into his pillow, Toby cursed his luck. He clearly should have known better than to wish.

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"It appears something odd has occurred Minerva my dear." The bearded headmaster scrutinized a parcel, attracting the notice of the present Transfiguration professor. The strict lady cleared her throat, appearing as attentive as always (however disputable this claim may be – she was not slacking off!)

"What do you mean Albus?"

Professor Dumbledore's finger graced the parchment, "A name has appeared, quite suddenly some odd years ago, on the List. I had Hagrid dispatch the roundly acceptance letters and have discovered thirteen owls missing from the owlry." Blue eyes peered over moon-shaped spectacles, "But you see my dear, that is not what I find most peculiar. Each bird was sent to one address and it seems they will no longer return to said address."

"A coincidence?"

"I think it best to send one of our professors to meet with this student."

With a nod, Minerva McGonagall was dismissed. The task of searching for an attainable and available guide a week before term began would be a troublesome assignment. Dumbledore smirked, if he knew Minerva a devious plan already formulated in her crafty mind. 'So very Slytherin …'

Glancing down at the note - _To:_ _Mr. Tobias Williams. Liverpool, England. Locked in the attic._ 'A pleasant child this one may turn out to be', Dumbledore thought grimly. The neglected tended to require more nurture – or none at all – when they arrived for schooling.

"Mr. Tobias Williams, a predicament you turned out to be."

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Two weeks locked up in his room. Two weeks without proper nourishment. Two weeks of gutter water and owl _a la mode_. Two weeks of utter isolation.

Two weeks of nirvana, for one Toby Williams who preferred the company of rodents to his lunatic of a mother.

Truly this sense of tranquility, the state of his mother's apparent disregard for his being, soothed the skeletal, pale boy. Toby could feel trouble brewing that evening, just like he could smell the putrid remains of the flea-bitten birds. A breeze nestled lightly against his thin cheek – wait? A breeze? All the doors and windows were locked!

Not for the first time in his life, Toby became frightful of the yellow-eyed shadows cackling in the walls. Trouble was brewing; he could feel it in the air.

A shuffling, a struggle – down stairs beneath the floor boards, he heard all.

"What the – WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!"

"Move aside, muggle."

"Like hell, breaking and entering." She snorted, clearly conveying little respect for the stranger. Toby didn't know whether to pity or worship the man disrupting her morning coffee. Her face hurt to look at in the morning. "Should call the cops, get your arse arrested."

"Where's the boy? Your son I presume? I hope for his sake that he acquired his amazing attributes from his father. Not that's much to go by; all muggles are dull and brimming with stupidity to begin with."

That word again, muggle.

"The little asswipe? He's in the attic. Now get out of my house you motherfuc-,"

"Charming. _Stupefy_."

A loud thump. Toby hid under his covers and prayed softly that the boogieman wouldn't find him and kill him too. A green eye peeked over the sheets, astounded to witness a bright light glowing from the other side of his door. A few appropriate, mumbled phrases and the flap blasted off its hinges, revealing an intimidating, hook-nosed man.

Toby much preferred the boogieman instead of a male, murdering adult in a dress.

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In Severus' opinion the condition of this child proved once more that muggles were incapable of caring their young. The gaunt boy stunk, his sandy-brown hair grimy and his clothing something foul. For a moment, a split second, Severus Snape felt pity for this boy (a harsh reminder of his own unstable childhood). However that feeling vanished when he noticed the boy surrounded by bones and scat. 'The owls,' the potions professor thought dourly, 'was the boy that starved?' Indeed the child was thin, looking more of a nine-year-old then his true age.

Again those unearthly green-eyes were eerie.

"Are you Toby Williams?"

A little squeak, the child burrowed beneath the sheets, "Please, don't kill me!"

Snape rolled his eyes at the irritating behavior. He wasn't even in his Death Eaters garb and this child thought him a murderer.

"Moron! My name is Professor Snape. I am the professor that Hogwarts sent to retrieve you and, as I was attempting to explain to that foul muggle, discover what has happened to our school owls."

Nevertheless, a shiver ran up the Potions Master's spine at the thought of eating the dead birds raw. He cleared his throat, "I am merely deducting that those bones are _not_ rats."

"So it wasn't a joke? I mean, I-I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know normal schools had owls."

"Of course not damn muggle-child, do I look like I teach at those godforsaken public schools?" Indeed Toby had not perceived that long dress-robes were not becoming attire for a professor at a normal school. Reaching into his robe, the snarky professor pulled out a piece of parchment. "Have you received this letter?"

"Yes."

"And you haven't responded?" A slight nod, the sandy blonde tresses hung limply with grime on his face. Snape sneered, smacking the boy, "You incompetent child!"

"Sir, you're hurting me." The child whimpered, tearing away from the wizard.

The hooked-nosed man snarled, "You have magic. Deal with it." He jerked the bothersome child from his bed and dragged him down the shaft. Snape snapped his head to look at the terrified child, "Oh, and Tobias Williams? Welcome to the Wizarding World."

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Within moments of entering Ollivanders the finest wand shop in the world, Mr. Ollivander knew without a doubt that this first-time wandholder would be one of the most difficult customers he ever had. Mr. Harry Potter's visit a year ago could not even compare to the complexity of this child's ... magical core.

He almost asked the awestruck, green-eyed boy to leave.

Although understanding the likelihood of finding the perfect wand for Mr. Toby Williams was very slim, Mr. Ollivander humored the boy. "I don't recognize your features, a muggle-born then Mr. Snape?"

"Certainly not my own!" the dark-robed man snorted, exasperated by his annual visits to the most renowned wandmaker. Clearly no one in the Ministry received his requests to hire a specialist to _integrate the muggle community_. Otherwise some other poor sap with black greasy hair would get stuck with this measly job.

The potions professor preferred concocting Wolfsbane for the mutt over the task of 'finding' untrained muggle-borns. 'Still …' Snape thought wearingly, eyeing the odd green-eyed boy.

Something was off, even the untrained Toby could tell, as he feverously waved the wooden sticks. The pile of wands and un-shelved boxes grew by the hour. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this magic deal, though returning to his mother's humble adobe did not seem like an alternative route for the eleven-year-old. Perhaps he should take his chances at the streets of London? They couldn't be as dangerous as Detroit or Chicago …

Ah, yes. Another wand was handed.

"Difficult, yes… very difficult," the old coot muttered, scurrying around the shelves for a possible instrument for this atypical client. "Are you by any chance a squib?"

A vein throbbed on Snape's head. This muggle-born child had effectively succeeded in doing the one thing the Potter boy had yet to accomplish – grant one Severus Snape a migraine. "Get on with it Ollivander, we don't have all day!"

The magic – it had to be the magic. His wands were well crafted, his dexterity notorious. The boy's magic was off. However acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry required a wand.

"It is not perfect, I admit." The wandmaker mumbled in obvious distress as he handed the child another instrument of magic, "I am reluctant to even provide this tool to you Mr. Williams."

A shy voice inquired, "Must you, then sir?"

"Where are your manners, Mr. Williams?" The greasy professor drawled, "Though I am curious, why sell a customer a wand that will not always behave accordingly?"

An all too familiar twinkle of mischief in a pair of soft blue eyes. "Why Severus Snape? Every wizard needs a wand."

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In a magical kingdom ruled by the creature of fae, one king irately lounged upon his throne. The beasts of the land were a jitter with angst as their ruler wrath coursed through their veins. "That foul warlock, Dumble-Bubble! He may act innocent, but it was under his ministry that my child was drafted…to-to wizardry!" The Goblin King ranted and raved in his ball room, obscenities slipping fluidly from his learned tongue. The mere thought, hypocrisy! A royal heir, bound to the laws of man! "Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting."

A tiny goblin, a beast of the upper-world, cleared his miniscule throat, "My Lord, perhaps in the end this alteration can benefit all."

"The Goblins from the Aboveground have begun to suspect the wizards of mischief. They are prepared to revolt if a boundary is crossed. Perhaps your heir will become the test for all wizarding alike." The wise goblin proposed, quite startled at the silence preceding his claim. Great, he was done for …

"Griphook, you're a genius!" Or not …

"I'll watch thy eyes, thy eyes from the dancing crystals! If those wizards think they can corrupt my heir then they've got another thing coming!" the Goblin King barked, cheer and merriment (with a taste of promised vengeance) resounding throughout the stone-walled hall. The stout goblin bowed in reverence to his liege. It would not do to put his lord in another fit of rage.

Mystical eyes gazed upon the creatures of the court, the goblins of the Underground. "You will follow him throughout his … training. Any requests, miniscule or grand, grant it for the heir." With a snap of his fingers, they too vanished. Chortling madly at what to come, the Goblin King laxly drew a crystal and peered into the glass.

"For the heir is the babe with the power," the enchanted king softly sung. "The heir is the babe with the power."

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When Toby Williams decided to sit in compartment 24 after figuring how to get on to Platform 9 ¾ (he really should demand an instruction manual for muggle-borns), he did not understand that this decision would become a life-altering decision. If he had, perhaps he would have chosen to wear his favorite pair of bright, orange Nikes.

In his compartment, Toby met an odd, little girl of silver moon eyes.

"Are-Are you wearing olives in your hair?" He asked in bewilderment. Indeed, black little vegetables clung in her long, blonde hair. Her kind was oh so magical to his mind.

A slight smile, "Oh yes, they repel Hargmunks during the winter."

For the life of him, Toby could not recall reading about Hargmunks in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Well, Newt Scamander could not have found all of the magical creatures of the wizarding world.

"Um…It's the end of summer."

"Yes, we should all get ahead start."

"That's true… I'm Toby."

"My name's Luna."

There was something about this eccentric girl that warmed his heart. "Let's be friends."

The yellow-haired girl cocked her head slightly, confusion eminent. "Really? I don't have any of those." Children always thought her strange, a puzzlement of lunacy. They avoided her like the black plague.

"Neither do I."

His honesty won her over.

From the shadows, a pair of mismatched eyes watched the serene scene through a crystal glass. Smiling like the ruler aught to smile, the Goblin King remarked "To be frank, I prefer this mortal over our dear Elena Douglas. This one's a dreamer."

But the children could hear nothing but the churning of the train's engine.

The Hat was old and stuffy. The Hat was ancient and knowledgeable. The Hat was everything that the founders would expect the Hat to be.

It sat in the Headmaster's office for the entire year, awaiting the annual ceremony of sorting first-year students. The Hat had sat on the heads of the most brilliant, the most cunning, the most brave, and the most successful minds in the wizarding world.

Never before had the Hat sensed a presence like this one Toby Williams.

"_Hmm … hmm … you are not what you appear, young Williams. There is darkness, great darkness in you. The magic in you pulses, not like that of wizards. Be wary Mr. Williams, should any find your worth -"_

"Aren't you supposed to sort me?" the child's voice whispered, noticing the antsy expressions of the older students. The last child, behind Weasley, Ginerva, had yet to be sorted after all.

"_Impatient as ever. Or perhaps the most patient of the evening. Very loyal and extremely tolerant. No drive for learning, for anything really … not Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Brave like a Gryffindor but only to a fault. Not much of a worker either, so not Hufflepuff. A dark past, a hazy future. You face much turmoil. Whatever path you follow, know that dreams and reality can sometimes intertwine."_

"MOST LIKELY …" the Hat called out and sealed his fate.

When Toby Williams was sorted into Hufflepuff there hadn't been a thundering cheer, merely a polite applause. Somehow, Toby's heart fell at the sight of his allotted house.

There were six other children his age, two boys and four girls, chatting eagerly among one another. 'I should-I should join them,' he thought hesitantly. Oh did Toby wish he was with Luna instead, who sat alone at the Ravenclaw table. They laughed around her. Her grey-dew eyes ignored their gaiety, picking at an olive in her hair.

Unreachable, yet still tangible. An arm slung over his shoulder, catching him off guard. The bright yellow of Hufflepuff, Toby would have to get used to their friendliness, their cheerfulness, their tolerance. They take anybody that didn't fit in with the status quo. It surprised Toby that the house wasn't any larger.

After all, the magical world had their handful of oddballs.

"Last year Harry Potter and his friends faced life-sized chess pieces!" the second-year Ernie Macmillan exclaimed to the excited first-years. Toby's face broke into a smile, the first in quite sometime.

"Like Alice in Wonderland?"

"Who in where?"

Toby ignored that statement. It wasn't his fault wizards were ignorant. "Was that a test?"

"What? No, no, jeez muggle-born first-years … the philosopher's stone was here. They protected you see." The Hufflepuff student explained sullenly, "Unfortunately Gryffindors won the house cup last year cause of last minute points. Better them then Slytherin. A nasty bunch, I'd keep away if I were you. Oh, look the feast is about to begin."

The heir's eyes wandered across the table, the pulsing of odd magic thumbing through the air. Food materialized out of nothingness. "I want something exciting, like last year, to happen." He dipped his spoon in the marmalade and licked up its contents. To think a week ago he survived on owl. Those birds still haunted him from time to time.

"But that's too much to ask for, isn't it?"

The monsters in the walls cheered as they heard their master's great desire. Oh what mischief they could play tonight, lingering in the shade of the aged castle. Their magic, more ancient and pure, weaved undetected by the stony fortress of Hogwarts. Not even their cousins, the House Elves, would dare to expel them!

"The heir cries for more!" Some jeered and shrieked.

They shouted, "We'll give him more!"

"Did he wish it?" a concerned chubby goblin voiced, doubtful that their powerful liege would allow such free reign over their magic in a citadel tainted by humans.

A roar - "Close enough!"

All of this goblin naughtiness, the Goblin King surveyed in his crystal glass. Although the moon-lit ruler watched, his attention drifted to a boy in black and yellow, lying silently in bed – listening to the voices in his head. Only the daft would ignore what they say, the wise know this true.

"Ha-ha, a lovely chap he is, my heir – I'll call him Jareth!" the king declared in his heir's nightly dance of dreams, mismatched orbs ablaze. "After all, he's got my eyes!"

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: I Have Found My Way to the Castle 

Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all, not even the title of the chapter

Summary: Toby's now at Hogwarts, but can never escape his eerie visions and those mismatched eyes. The walls at the castle call out to him. The heir learns to be a wizard, but are wizards ready for the heir? Years 1 – 2.

Sckitzo: Wow this chapter was a monster. Sorry it's been awhile since I've updated. I had finals and drama to deal with. Review when you read to encourage me to continue. Toby's journey is almost half done, I swear!

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In Toby Williams's first year, a giant monster stalked the halls and preyed on unsuspecting muggle-borns. But Toby didn't care too much for the beast; after all, getting digested by said creature wouldn't be enough of an excuse to neglect that Transfiguration essay. Therefore, most of his first-year was spent wandering the castle and talking to the other odd student of the class – the dazed Luna Lovegood.

"I've never liked tea cups," Toby painstakingly admitted one afternoon, a pink hue spreading across his cheeks, "They've always felt so dastardly. I think out of all the utensils, the tea cup's the worst. Evil, you know?"

The blonde girl halted in her path, bending down to brush off the dust on her favorite shoes, before turning to her newly acquired friend. "Are you making fun of me?"

"What? No! Of course not! Jeez, I was trying to be honest."

A suit of armor collapsed behind the pair, jinxed by a group of jeering Slytherins. Toby ignored their taunts for the most part. After an embarrassing first class in History of Magic, news spread like wildfire about the eccentric behavior of the muggle-born Hufflepuff and the dazed Ravenclaw.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Sometimes people say strange things to trick me," the silvery-eyed girl bluntly admitted, disregarding the fallen metal armor and the malpractice of the elder green robed-students. Toby liked that about Luna. She didn't mince her words or linger on the past. Although sometimes her honesty made people feel rather uncomfortable.

"People do that to me too." Toby grabbed her shoulder firmly, his glittering green eyes gazing into hers, "I don't think you strange. Some of the things you say make perfect sense." Toby then recalled the creature Luna sketched, how it magically glided across the page. The magic from her fingers, oh did he envy! "You were drawing a picture in History. I've seen it before, in my dreams. We can't have both imagined the same creature."

He didn't tell her that his dreams consisted of goblins dancing in throne rooms or a man with mismatched eyes transfiguring into an owl or of the giant maze that ran endlessly around a towering castle or of stairs that hung from ceilings. He didn't tell her how real it all seemed to be. How that dreams were most likely reality. If a community of magicians lay hidden to muggles, then what other worlds were out there?

She laughed, such a pleasant little laugh, excitement shining in her silvery, dazed pools. "The Wiggerbigs! They buzz in the ears of the intellects and inspired." Toby listened and _believed_ – oh what the power of the psyche could accomplish! The universe _changed_ in Hogwarts for one Toby Williams, as a creature never born took shape through a child's mind. Out of the heir's gift they were born, now forever the bane of wizards.

Now to find them, nestled pleasantly in their quaint adobes.

"Their stingers plant themselves in the back of the scalp of professors, that's how they have eyes at the back of their heads." The Lovegood odd child emphasized by gripping the back of her friend's head playfully and blowing raspberries on his pale neck.

Toby giggled then nodded in response, attempting to make sense of the Ravenclaw's anomalous idiom. "We'll have to catch one Luna. I wouldn't mind something watching my back."

Indeed, the heir should catch one – the castle walls quite agreed.

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It was an unspoken law in the magical world that no matter the clumsiness or lack of talent one possesses; every wizard with an ounce of magic could ride a broomstick. Hermione Granger, walking tome extraordinaire, had her broom rolling her first day of Flying. Even the infamous Neville Longbottom of Gryffindor (nearly a Squib himself) managed to float on one of those odd contraptions (albeit crashing quite suddenly).

So Madam Hooch, the Quidditch referee and Flying Instructor, was dumbstruck at this wild predicament - a single, perfectly normal Hufflepuff incapable of prodding his broomstick to rise.

"That's enough then Mr. Williams. Try again." The Flying Instructor didn't understand, wasn't the art of flight ingrain in every promising wizard? Though the extent of the art was naturally varying, she had never heard of a wizard being unable to ride a broomstick. It's almost as if the broom wasn't magic.

The small Hufflepuff, Tobias Williams, smiled softly (a very Hufflepuff smile at that) and remarked to the inquiring coach, "It's alright ma'am. I don't mind much. I think I'd much rather fly on a carpet then a broomstick." He bent down to pick up the useless broom and then handed it to Madam Hooch. "They don't hurt as much when you're whacked in the head."

The child had a morbid sense of humor, this one did. "That would be really nice, wouldn't it be professor?"

Toby Williams granted the house appliance – a broom of all things, why were the wizards so crass – a single flicker of disappointment from his green, misty eyes as it lay frigid in the Hooch's arms. He couldn't be normal, not even around these bizarre magicians.

_Hoot. Hoot. _An owl perched atop of branch beside the forest, watching earnestly the heir suspended to the ground. A pair of mismatched eyes flashed and disappeared.

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The Hufflepuff common room's walls were puke-yellow. In the late hours of the day, Toby nestled before the fireplace – cozy and warm under the wool blanket – and opened his eyes to reluctantly visualize the audacious vomit splattered across a canvas. Toby didn't like visiting the common room. In fact, he preferred the clamor of the Great Hall to the piss-colored chamber.

Fifth-year Hufflepuff seeker, Cedric Diggory, sought to it that he properly introduced himself to the naïve, most-trusting first years of his house. They were, he warned, to always be wary of those not garbed in the cloak of yellow and black. No telling what any would do to them, as Slytherins and sometimes even Gryffindors found a first year Hufflepuff a grand joke.

He particularly sought out one odd first year, the only muggle-born of the year, the Williams boy with a quaintness and curiosity to rival a Kneazle.

What better place to catch a first year unaware but at breakfast?

Diggory settled down beside the sandy-brunette child, carefully placing sizzled bacon atop his plate. The boy read, forgoing the bowl of cereal and syrup turning with his spoon. The elder student cleared his throat, catching the attention of the peculiar child.

Quick green eyes glanced up, and then continued reading, "Hello Prefect Diggory."

"Cedric please. Williams, I was wondering how your stay at Hogwarts has been as of yet. I tend to monitor first-years in our house."

There were other reasons Cedric Diggory questioned this boy. Rumors, very dark rumors were spread about Toby Williams. Shadows followed him at night, black misshaped figures tracking and cackling some students witnessed. It wouldn't due for a young student to be dabbling in the Dark Arts.

The thin first-year yawned, carefully flipping a page of Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. "It's been fine, if you're hearing."

The Hufflepuff prefect blinked at that strange response. "Yes. I can hear." He conformed, noticing the room become chilly. A blonde Ravenclaw skipped happily past the pair, heading towards the blue and bronze clothed table. She had lovely radishes dangling from her ears. Cedric smiled, "You're that odd bird's friend, Lovegood is it? My father knew hers. Interesting company she can make."

Toby cocked his head in confusion. Being locked up in the attic was a life-altering experience. He was disconnected to the children around him, their jargon and ways an utter puzzlement. 'Wizards were strange,' he thought repeatedly while observing students like Cedric Diggory wandering in the castle. 'They were magical yet can't hear the walls of their home.'

"Yes," Toby replied softly to his elder, "but Luna's not an animal. I'm sure she's human, but I have been wrong before."

And with that the child closed his large tome, leaving Cedric to his bacon and eggs.

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Filius Flitwick could not deny the melancholic behavior of one Toby Williams, who insisted on the first day of class that he would much rather use a muggle pen then the standard ink-pen provided to Hogwarts students – merely due to the fact that he had quote, 'ingested enough bird to last a lifetime', unquote.

Filius Flitwick could not deny that this Hufflepuff student was a failure in the magical arts. The boy would lift his wand and nothing but eeriness would emit from his core. Almost a Squib, the Charms professor concluded after the first week with the gaunt child. Even Neville Longbottom improved in this allotted time.

Filius Flitwick could not deny that this Hufflepuff student was a genius. He wasn't constricted to just the powers of the wand. At the age of eleven, Toby Williams could whisper a phrase or two of complete gibberish and accomplish the same results as the actual spell. Wandless magic was often attempted by six years and above, not awkward first years.

Filius Flitwick didn't expect such grand things from the muggle-born child when he met the shy boy cowering behind a suit of armor after the opening feast. The child was homesick, not from home he claimed, but for familiarity. New things felt uncomfortable.

Filius Flitwick could not deny the fact that Mr. Williams' magic did not feel like the standard wizarding magic he was accustomed to. But who was he to tell?

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As a muggle-born Gryffindor, Colin Creevey experienced ridicule and scorn within even his own house for his forced determination and nearly stalkerish-persona. It wasn't his fault in all actuality. If he wanted to work at the Daily Prophet after graduation, then Colin needed practice to stand against the leading wizarding photographers. And what better way to practice then to be the famous Harry Potter's personal paparazzi?

Not many could qualify for this taxing task.

"That's an old camera," a pale Hufflepuff student commented in Herbology one morning, startling the mousy Gryffindor into almost tearing the leaves off the Wallowing Widow. Professor Sprout would not have been pleased – it would have been Colin's third mistake in under a month.

Still, Colin could use a spot of cheer. The Creevey boy smiled, excitingly replying, "It's nice isn't it? I'm muggle-born you see, my father bought this for me as a present for being magical. I've just worked on getting the pictures to move." The green-eyed, first-year garbed in yellow and black bashfully grinned. Colin flashed a photo of his hero to the other child, feeling for some odd reason a touch of comfort from the eccentric boy. With Mr. Filch's cat strung up and Harry Potter rumored to have caused the mischief, Colin didn't truly know where to turn to.

He laughed at the stupefied expression on the sandy-brunette's face at the moving photo. A muggle-born too, then … "Isn't he great? Harry Potter protected us muggle-borns when he was just a baby!" Colin Creevey exclaimed, not noticing the stormy air in the Hufflepuff's eyes.

Green eyes glazed over as the Gryffindor rambled. The light, airy charm of the fae – a tone of royalty, a tone of importance – craved the attention of the heir. Invisible to the naked eye, the Goblin King muttered softly into his crystal – a pale silhouette forming to whisper in his child's ear, _"What remarkable things we often do when we can not even remember … just a babe with the power, not as great as you."_

The wind nipped at his ear, "Pardon?"

"I haven't said anything," Colin replied, quite bewildered by the boy's sudden interruption of the one-sided conversation.

"Hmm … must be the voices acting up again."

Toby then returned to tending the Wallowing Widows, ignoring the baffled boy beside him.

As a child exposed to muggles, Colin Creevey knew that hearing voices in your head was not in the very bit normal. He planned to release this information to one of the Head of House, Professor McGonagall perhaps? He'd speak to her after supper.

Alas, this encounter proved to be the last for dear Colin Creevey. He was found in a corridor later that night, petrified by the monster of Slytherin.

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"You know what they've been saying in Ravenclaw Toby?" No, he didn't. But Toby knew that Luna Lovegood would inform him of the news. The said blonde tucked her wand behind her left ear and yawned, "Jenna Lu said that she heard Cho Chang the seeker claiming to have heard Colin Creevey of Gryffindor telling Ginny Weasley before his petrifaction that you're completely nutters!"

The loony child leaned close to her friend, not caring if her skirt rode down. Honestly, a free-spirited being such as herself could not be held back due to the state of her appearance. The large branch sustained her weight well enough and Toby, relaxing near the trunk, wasn't bothered with her polka-dotted panties. He was rarely bothered with anything at all.

Silver eyes shimmered, "Truly? Barking mad? Have you been holding out on me Toby?"

Frankly this was not surprising. Any person willingly associated with the estranged Miss Lovegood was also characterized as quite mad. However, Toby had a feeling that their brilliant deduction was largely influenced by his refusal to turn a mouse into a tea cup ("I shan't support products of the Evil! Be gone, foul beast!" he claimed before losing 20 points from Hufflepuff) and for his stern beliefs in the veracity of the Quibbler. Who was he to doubt the utter genius of Mr. Lovegood?

"All nonsense of course."

"Indeed." She shifted, her pale legs currently dangling in his face. Toby whacked the annoying appendages, listening to her jovial antics, "They've been calling you Wacky Williams behind your back. I've heard some Slytherins whisper that name."

"Slytherins don't have anything better to do than to bully people Luna, you know that."

To wish the Slytherins away was tempting, but what good would that do? Someone else would take their place – a cosmic balance to maintain in the universe it seemed. Toby Williams needed to remind himself that not all Slytherins were bad, not all of them deserve to disappear.

He never seemed to question the known fact that his magic was different. Who else could get anything their hearts desired by uttering a simple wish? Magic was magic, or so Toby believed.

She laughed her dainty laugh, "We're an interesting bunch Toby, Loony Lovegood and Wacky Williams. Belonging together in the nut house, they say."

Although her voice clenched in merriment, her silvery orbs filled with sorrow.

Toby's eyes widened, "You don't really think that-"

"I hear the chanting, don't deny it. It used to hurt, hearing those words, but not so much anymore."

"You're not loony." Those green eyes glistened like the stars in the sky. They were so earnest, so truthful, that Luna could not help but believe. "Most everything you say is true … I can see them."

"There are worse things that can happen, besides name calling I mean." A pained, knowing wince graced his gaunt face. "Besides those names shouldn't hurt. Not very creative, if you ask me."

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"Have you heard the news Toby?"

"What, that Quidditch is cancelled? Yes, I've heard the Hufflepuff chasers wailing about it in the common room."

"No, no, not that! Something's been eating the chickens in Hagrid's fields. It must be a Heliopath! They survive on the gizzard of roosters."

"How can that be, don't Heliopaths only live in Brazil and Africa."

"Yes, but didn't people say the same thing about Acromantulas? I believed there is a horde of them growing in the forbidden forest and everyone laughed."

"I didn't laugh, I believed you Luna."

"Something sinister will happen soon," her mysterious silver eyes gleamed, "why don't we watch the moon rise?"

And they did together, alone in the Astronomy Tower, watching the celestial moon rise.

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It started off as any other day at Hogwarts. Potions shimmering in the dungeons, charms flying about the halls, and little creatures in Hagrid's Hut vying for a place in the Forbidden Forest. An average day for Albus Dumbledore, vanquisher of the great Grindlewald. However on this day, the Underground shook for the third time in a month a monstrous threat drew closer to the heir. Something needed to be done with the folly of the wizards from Aboveground.

And this of course, led to a certain royal figure knocking on the door of a headmaster one Sunday evening. The door magically swung open while Albus sipped a cup of hot Firewhiskey. There stood a being that Professor Dumbledore would very likely love to forget. Regal white robes of golden linen, sandy-blonde mane of a crown, long wiry fingers, a pair of mismatched eyes, and an atmosphere the screamed of old magic. Yes, this was the King of Labyrinth – King Jareth of the Underground.

"Sir Albus Dumbledore," the mystical man drawled.

"What have I done to merit the attentions of the Goblin King?" Indeed Dumbledore was indebted to this … man. How else could he have discovered twelve different uses for dragon's blood without the Goblin King's expertise? However the headmaster had not expected such an untimely visit (with the students being petrified and the board threatening to shut the school down for good).

Jareth sneered, "Do not forget your place, Sir Wizard. Your wand waving is no match for ancient power."

"Do you have business with any of the staff – or perhaps the students of my school?" the professor questioned, motioning with the flick of a wrist for the ruler to sit. The Goblin King marched into the office, disregarding an old man's act of piety, and opted for reaching into the headmaster's candy dish.

"You don't mind, of course?" the king inquired before sucking on a lemon drop wistfully, "I recall as a lad you lost your sister in the maze to madness. They may return, as you of course know, but the children of wizards are never the same after the trip. It must be done to cleanse the foulness of their magic, to purify their wringing hands."

The old wizard sighed. There was a single aspect about the ruler's personality that Albus could never stomach: his blatant hatred for all things wizarding. Ancient magic, wild magic, dark magic - the king thrived for but the constrictions of a witch's wand …

"Dear Jareth, it has been far too long since the Goblin Wars. Why hold such a grudge against wizarding kind?"

The mighty king clasped the armchair beneath his wiry fingers in contempt, not sparing a glance to the disgraceful, meddling being before him. "Your age has made you senile Dumbledore. Have you forgotten foul wizard? I was king during the Goblin Wars, as I was king when this castle was forged through Goblin stone, as I was king when Godric Gryffindor stole the sword of Ragnuk the First. Trusting your kind would be foolish."

"I repeat – why are you here King Goblin. Surely not for a spot of tea?"

The air grew thick within the office. Suddenly a power far greater than his own, far greater than Grindlewald, far greater than Voldemort choked the magic all around. For the first time in a long, long time Albus feared. A terrible and ancient power emitted from the fingertips of the unearthly Goblin King.

"Do not play coy with me, Albus Dumbledore. I should banish you for that tone." The royal king's jaw clenched, eyes flashed with fury. However this all subsided when a song of the phoenix Fawkes pervaded the air. The demonic ruler closed his eyes, listening to the magic vibrating in thresholds. His mismatched eyes turned to the headmaster, temporarily calmed, "You have something, a possession of mine, hidden in this castle. I am in dire need of it."

"Oh?"

"Come, come now. Stealing from a king now wizard? Shameful, shameful act!"

Albus Dumbledore spluttered indecently, awestruck by the growing force surrounding him, "Perhaps-perhaps if I could learn the identity of the heir you seek …"

The silence could split the room in two. A sly, little smirk grew on the face of the Goblin King, who waged a finger to the hardened Light wizard. "_Tut. Tut. Tut._ I never said _I_ was missing my heir."

Suddenly Albus couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. It was as if time had finally aged him, incasing him in some type of inescapable tomb. The bloodlust in Jareth's eyes glistened at the sight of an immobile wizard, one faltering from his high pedestal. Served the bastard right, this did. Served him right.

"Your impudence deceives you," the fierce ruler announced, "the greed in your eyes shimmer so revoltingly, it's nauseating to watch." The magic of the king glittered in a hurricane, rushing throughout the room like a typhoon.

Albus felt as if his eardrums would explode from the intruding pressure in the office. He bit his lip as perspiration formed at his brow and spared a glance into the gaze of a mad king. Oh how he wished he listened to Minerva on such manners. When word that a magical heir of sorts embodying a magic unknown had entered his school... he couldn't help but wonder about said power. Sometimes it seems things were best left forgotten.

Jareth smiled a most devious of smiles. "I could take it from you, I could take away your protection so easily. The castle listens to its rightful master. It hears the call of the heir and beckons." The king of the Underground leaned in closer to the wizard-born and commanded, "You will not pursue my chosen, as I do not pursue your own."

The king was not a creature to cross, that Albus finally understood. Yet still in the minds of men, there always lay hope. The old professor cleared his throat one last time, "The heir under my guidance will be beneficial to us both your highness-,"

"Speak no more manipulative bastard. You do not wish to help, to control yes, to help nay. None of my blood needs your 'guidance'." The magic tightening around the headmaster's throat loosened until nothing but a thread lingered in the room. Jareth of the Labyrinth sighed regrettably while turning to the professor, "I've had enough of you magical kind to last a century Sir Wizard. Good day; and may your blunderings be renowned lofty magician."

A snap of his fingers and the Goblin King transformed into an owl, flying out of the window of the headmaster's office.

The old professor grasped his throat lightly, trailing the invisible strands of magic from moments ago before peering out the window. Had he known this to be the finishing result, Albus Dumbledore would have reconsidered researching the twelve different uses of dragon's blood those many years ago.

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To say that Professor Severus Snape hated children was an understatement. The utter loathing he felt as he instructed those dunderheads in the art of potion making could not be compared to single, simple words. Severus Snape believed that after each passing generation, children became stupider and stupider.

How else could you explain a little Hufflepuff out of bed, while students were sent to the Hospital Wing by the dozen? Severus sneered at the sight, "Typical. Students are petrified, teachers run amuck, and I still find a child out of bed."

The small silhouette of a boy turned. Eerie, bored green eyes gazed back. A slight smirk, "Good evening Professor." Snape's brow twitched at the impudence, 'Cheeky as ever.'

"20 points from Hufflepuff, Mr. Williams. That should teach you from disregarding the rules at such critical time." Still the potion's master couldn't help but feign concern over the idiotic boy's behavior. "Muggle-borns need to be careful. After that annoying Creevey boy and the Hufflepuff …"

A very unpleasant, knowing smirk crossed the child's face. "Don't worry Professor Snape. I'm sure nothing bad will happen to me." Drat that smirk! Hufflepuff's weren't supposed to smirk!

"Ever the Gryffindor tact."

"I'm a Hufflepuff sir."

"Or so it would seem."

"I can hear them sir, the ones protecting me." A most reassuring tone escaped Toby as his green eyes flickered left to right, searching for some invisible spirit hiding within the walls. "They lurk in the guise of shadows. Nothing can harm me here you see, cause I'm never really alone." There they were, laughing and dancing in plain sight. Not that his professor could see, of course.

"Very well then Mr. Williams. However, I advise you against wandering at night, especially in light of the recent circumstances." He ushered the boy with a wave of his wand, directing the unusual child to his dormitories. Was it any other students but a Hufflepuff, Snape would have alerted the Headmaster about a possibility of a child dabbling in the Dark Arts. But many fleeting thoughts jumped through the heir's head.

How could Toby get lost in a fine castle as this? The stones in the walls called out to him, shifting to his may and bending to his will. She never left him behind. All of her secrets – she revealed. That odd single, room (disappearing and appearing), the secrets of the corridor in the third floor, and the scratches in the pipes – each had been ever known to Toby Williams of Hufflepuff.

"Professor Snape? There are far more frightening creatures in our universe besides our very own mysterious monster," Toby spoke most assuredly. "They dwell in the world of our minds."

The professor didn't find that statement amusing. So he took another ten points off Hufflepuff and sent the boy to bed.

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"They're daft." This candid revelation was so startling to one Luna Lovegood that nearly dropped the sliced cabbage into her hairless potion. Fortunately for Luna, not many things were startling in her life. Well, with the exception of the actions of her only friend Toby who for the death of turnips she could not quite figure out.

'Predictable people were so easy to deal with', she recalled Toby telling her a few days before Halloween after they stumbled across a horde of pixies that managed to escape from their Defense Against the Arts teacher's wooden chest, 'That's why humans lock up the unpredicatables together in a cheery place of white walls. I'll have to take you to one someday.'

Luna couldn't help but pick up the sinister meaning behind those closely guarded words.

"They're all daft," the yellow garbed boy repeated, watching the simmering of the silvery liquid in the cauldron. Almost like the moon …

The blonde broke her concentration by lifting her wand to stir the concoctions of the potion. She sighed before replying, "Wow Toby ... that was rather blunt."

"No it's true," Toby insisted as he dipped a vial to turn in their project to Professor Snape. "Hufflepuffs are rather daft to think that Potter is behind the petrifying."

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"Professor Lockhart?" a shy first year inquired. The end of the year drew near and there was still one deed that Toby Williams sought fit to correct – in the form of his fraud of a mentor Lockhart.

"Ah yes, Mr. Williams. Come to retrieve an autograph from your very own Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor?" The shinning teeth halted their brilliance. The child's fingers were lingering at the back of his neck. Gilderoy Lockhart cleared his throat, "May I ask, what is it you're doing my boy?" It was truly unnerving, having the wide-eyed child grab the back of his head and stare.

Toby blinked, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny. "Over exposure to Wiggerbigs can lead to massive head trauma," he muttered, as if such an odd phrase answered the bewilderment of his professor.

A week later Professor Lockhart found himself in the Chamber of Slytherin, his last fleeting memory before all grew dark was that of Wiggerbigs.

_Obliviate! _

The tragic curse of the Wiggerbigs resumes once more. A single flower-like insect burrowed out through the fraud's pink-flesh and nestled beneath the feathered-wing of a bold phoenix. It would wait for the next opportune moment to strike.

'Poor Mr. Lockhart, he was no fun. Poor old bloke, his memory undone,' a taunt smirk crossed Toby's face as he rested atop his pillow late that night. Potter and Weasley climbed out of the chamber, believing that their professor's memory loss was due to a re-fired memory charm. In reality the blame lay in the Wiggerbigs.

Not that anyone would ever know.

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Most children could not wait to see their families over summer break (unless you were Harry Potter whose family, Toby decided, resembled a blue whale, a pig with a mustache, and a horse). Then again, most children didn't have a deranged lunatic for a mother.

Meeting Mrs. Williams at Kings Cross was not to be, Toby determined, an annual event for the family. Especially if his mother had the gall to drag him off the platform (outside of 9 and 10, she would never step foot in anything remotely satanic) and away from Luna's silvery, worried eyes.

Her tossing him into the kitchen, narrowly missing the large metal stove, was another factor Toby resolved to be rid of.

"Disgusting, freak of a boy!" _Smack. Smack. Smack_. "Impudent! Tainted child!" The mad woman picked up a crock-pot. _Plat. Plat. Plat._ "I'll drive the demons out, which I will; I'll drive the demons out!"

"Stop mom, stop!" Toby wished for the comfort of the stone walls of Hogwarts. He desired the warmth of the Hufflepuff fire. He wanted the enchanting eyes of his dear friend watching him, ever playfully, mock the History of Magic professor. If only he could voice his fancies. If only he could speak. "Stop! Please stop! You're hurting me!"

But Karen Williams did not stop. She beat him black and blue.

888

The odd man appeared again in an equally odd maze. A storm of glitter brushed against Toby's pale cheeks, awakening in him a sense of purpose – a sense of belonging. He felt that the strange being in front of him (for he could not truly be a man) could only see his soul with those piercing eyes.

The darkness of the night hid everything else from sight.

The boy gulped, "It's you again."

"Me again?"

"Yes. You're the man in the shadows that haunt my dreams."

"Are they dreams?" A faint laugh echoes throughout the plains, "Then you my mad lad are the prince of dreams!"

A tiny smile shone across the creature of fae's enchanting visage, "Wake now from the land of slumber my child, for the Goblin King sings of wicked deeds."

The man spares a last glance at his heir and vanishes.

888

Locked away in the room of sorrows, Toby pulls out of slumber. Locked away from the mad woman and her pain, Toby carries a burden. Locked away in his own stone tower, Toby battles the very demons of his mind.

"I can't stand this anymore." The magical child paced back and forth, "I seek solace in my sleep and awaken to a horrid nightmare."

A tiny owl, a babe from an egg left in the attic a summer ago (how Toby missed such a delectable lunch was beyond him), flew from the windowsill down to the exhausted boy.

He grabbed the talon of the owl, attaching a small note to a foot. "Fly to my Luna." The boy cried in desperation, "Send her a message – a plea. Fly to my moon, make haste!" Untold emotions fluttered through the mind of the winged beast as it glided into the night.

Dark thoughts troubled the boy in the shadows. Dark thoughts lingered as bruises. Dark thoughts turned to his mother, and the boy gave into his heart's desire. "I _wish_ you wouldn't hurt me. I _wish_ you would leave … Go. Go _far_, _far_ away. I never want to _hear_ from you again." He bit his lip before spitting out one last curse, "_I hate you_."

Her fate now sealed in stone.

Stout goblins sleeping in the crevices of a castle far away awoke to the sounds of mischief. The proud king upon his throne looks into his crystal, a vengeful smile creeping up his face at the punishment to come. "Finally the child speaks." A flick of his wrist and the army of creatures now let loose.

The goblins clamored together in merriment and fun, entering the world of man through a whirlwind of gleam. They sang and danced of the mother's fate.

"At long last, the bitch is ours."

888

"_Luna? Can I stay with you this summer? Something absolutely unpleasant has occurred. Love, Toby."_

That was all the note said. The Lovegood child nestled her bizarre cranium against the wooden table near the very syrup squeezed from Wiggerbigs. There has been a mysterious inflation of those pesky creatures quite recently, leading well-known magicologists to update their magical creatures list by one. Poor, gullible tourists. Their kind has become the primary target of the Wiggerbigs outbreak.

"Daddy?"

"What is it sugarplum?"

"I feel as if something terrible has happened. We need to get Toby now."

And so that is how Toby Williams spent the rest of his summer at the Lovegood residence, listening cheerfully to the wild stories of the editor of the Quibbler and catching those devious pixies in the garden until the Hogwarts Expressed rolled up in a semblance of red and black.

It was a lovely summer indeed.

888

"What beautiful horses …" She hadn't noticed these magnificent creatures, pulling the horse carriages towards the castle. Last year the train pulled her to Hogwarts, followed by a riveting conversation with the Giant Squid in the lake. Needless to say, Luna Lovegood did not waste her first year gawking at the school from a distance like most of her classmates (besides Toby that is, he never was one for gawking).

A group of Ravenclaw fourth year girls snickered at the antics of Loony Lovegood as they passed the carriage, remarking quite loudly the madness of the young student. A frown marred Toby's face.

"Don't worry Luna, you're not crazy. I can see them too."

The curiosity dancing in his eyes made the Ravenclaw quiver. There was something of morbid fascination which drew her dear friend to stroke the ear of the beast. "They're Thestrals, my Williams," her voice as airy as it always has been, "only those who've seen death can see."

This was an odd thing, as Toby could not remember a person he'd seen dying. He knew the death of anyone would stick to his mind like peanut butter on a hardwood floor. So that begged the question: who could he have seen die?

An owl flew above their heads, mismatched eyes twinkling mischievously before disappearing into the thick clouds.

888

"What is this dear Gred?" A red-head Gryffindor asked, tucking an odd looking map into his robe pocket. His twin (an identical red-head) tugged at his coat and turned the corner to witness a gang of Slytherins bullying a yellow-clad student.

"I am uncertain my brother Forge."

They watched as a single boy remains surrounded, looking quite nervous at his predicament. Three Slytherins, larger in built, approached menacingly calling out names such as 'mudblood' or 'Wacky Williams'. However, Fred Weasley was not at all intimidated. These were the same Slytherins squealing at the Cream Canaries he and George spiked in their drinks two meals ago.

"It appears to be a firstie –,"

Then the boy waved his hand. _Splurt!_ Slytherins were coated in a sticky purple gunk, one of the Weasley's prized pranks.

"Or not -,"

Fred couldn't contain the smirk forming as the threatening Slytherins fled the scene. He hadn't been this excited since he transfigured Ronald's teddy bear into a spider. And George – he looked as if Christmas came three months early.

Paranoia gripped the young heir as the walls of the castle whispered of peering eyes. The boy raised his wand, plucked it behind his ear ("A good place to hold one's wand," a quote courtesy of Mr. Lovegood) and called out, "Who's there?"

The Weasley twins popped out of their hiding place, momentarily startling the thin boy. George Weasley's arm draped over the boy's soldier, guiding him towards his infallible twin: "Fred and George Weasley at your service! What can the Weasleys do for you my most valued customer?"

A most perplexing expression graced the young Hufflepuff's face.

"Customer?"

George laughed at the apparent confusion, "Why of course!"

"The very idea! Now Mister …" Fred chirped.

"Williams. Toby Williams."

"Yes, Toby my friend. We save your hide today… and we provide tools of destruction for tomorrow."

"A little prank is quite fun."

Thus the Weasley twins encountered one Toby Williams, a boy that would later on in life change their future for the better. Until then he remained a loyal customer of the twins, aiding in their crusade against those of silver and green.

888

"They say that Sirius Black snuck into Hogwarts as a pot plant."

"I'd sooner believe that man was innocent before comprehending why any person would sneak into Hogwarts as a pot. Come on, of all the gardening tools – a pot?"

"Hmph! Toby, you're no fun!"

888

Something about the young Hufflepuff made the hairs at the back of the professor's neck stand on end. Something about the odd Hufflepuff made the wolf inside growl and beat back in defiance. Something about the resilient Hufflepuff made Remus Lupin wary of a power – an unnatural, ancient power – residing beneath those eerie green eyes.

He sat in the back of class near the ditzy Ravenclaw who spoke of Crumpled-Snorklacs or whatever they were (the name escaped him). The boy worked diligently on his papers, rarely getting anything below an Exceeds Expectations. Toby Williams was not extraordinary, not quite as memorable as his dear friend Luna or as charming as one Ginerva Weasley or as brave as the famous Harry Potter.

Yet Remus Lupin couldn't forget those haunting eyes, so similar to a young woman he met a lifetime ago. Lily Potter wasn't the only girl he knew with brilliant emerald eyes.

'But now is not the time to reminisce,' Lupin thought as the moon began to rise, 'Now is not the time.'

888

A girl with blonde hair and silvery dazed eyes pouted during the End of the Year Feast. Ravenclaw had not won the House Cup. Sirius Black escaped Azkaban and capture, again. Her favorite professor, Lupin, was just exposed as a werewolf. Yet these trivial were not the reasons why she pouted.

"My shoes have gone missing again," she stated calmly, grabbing the attention of her green eyed, sandy brown haired friend, "Help me find them? They only appear when you call to them."

They searched throughout the halls pass the Slytherin dungeons and the Gryffindor Tower and the Ravenclaw corner and the Hufflepuff greenhouse. Toby heard a slight snickering from behind and called to the castle to speak.

He then smiled a knowing smile.

"Your shoes are quite remarkable Luna."

"Oh, why is that?"

Toby Williams pointed above their heads, towards a chandelier, where a pair of bright red shoes innocently hung.

"They always manage to find their way home."

888


End file.
